of humor.
“It’s not like it’s a secret, darling.”
“I didn’t—” Quinn sighed. “Never mind. How did Lewis sound? Was he very upset?” She opened the washer and started dropping in clothes.
“I’ve never heard him like that. He could barely speak.”
“He was crying?”
“Heavens, yes.”
Quinn measured the liquid detergent and poured it around the agitator onto the dirty clothes. “What did he say?”
“Not too much. Just told me how scared he was.”
She closed the washer door and turned it on, confused and surprised by what her mother-in-law had told her. Lewis had been unable to talk to her, and yet opened up to his mother to the point where he cried and told her he was scared? She glanced over at the built-in ironing board, her heart racing.
“Quinn? Are you still there?”
“I’m here, Arlene. Sorry.” She swallowed hard and walked up the stairs. “What were you saying?”
“I just want you to know I’m here if you need to talk.”
After getting off the phone, Quinn tried to convince herself it really wasn’t any big deal that Lewis had opened up to his mother and not to her. Perhaps he just didn’t want to alarm Quinn with his own worry. That made sense, didn’t it? Lewis was always trying to protect her. But later, when his sister called to say she had been talking to Lewis all morning about how upset he was, Quinn couldn’t take it anymore. She told her sister-in-law she had to go and dialed her husband’s office.
“What’s the matter?” he said.
“I don’t understand why you can talk to everyone but me,” Quinn said.
“Was I supposed to keep all this a secret? I thought my family had a right to know.”
“I just don’t want you to close me out.”
Lewis promised he wasn’t closing her out, but said he needed to hurry off the phone for an important appointment. Quinn hesitated before saying good-bye. Something about his tone tripped her suspicions. He was either hiding something or telling an outright lie. But he insisted he was rushed, so she let him go without pressing it.
“OH, HONEY,” Georgette said as she threw her arms around Quinn. “I’m so sorry you didn’t get better news from the doctors yesterday.” She had, of course, dropped by unannounced.
“So you know,” Quinn said.
“I spoke to Lewis earlier.”
“Of course you did. C’mon in and tell me what he said. Apparently it’s the only way I’m going to find out what my husband is thinking.”
The two went into the kitchen, where Georgette helped herself by making a cup of tea using a mug that Quinn didn’t usually offer her guests. It had been a present from Eugene, who gave it to her the day they met at Baston’s Books.
It was a vivid memory for Quinn. Eugene had arrived at the store with his publicist, who approached Quinn to discuss the logistics of the event while Eugene was waylaid by fans. The crowd surrounding him was comprised of mostly women, which she understood. Though he was a far cry from handsome, he had a certain curmudgeonly charisma. Eugene had made a career of his crankiness, and each woman liked to think she was special enough to be the one who could break through and become the one shining beacon in his dark existence . . . if only he would get to know her. Being aware of this didn’t make Quinn any less susceptible to his churlish charms. In fact, she had to fight the urge to push her way through the crowd and make her own specialness known.
But she had her chance after the event, when they had a few quiet moments to chat. He pulled out the coffee mug, which was a promotional item imprinted with the cover of his memoir, Eugenics . It showed a photograph of Eugene looking down at his crotch, surprised. It was a joke photo—the top half was Eugene’s body, and the bottom half was the lower region of a Ken doll. The idea was that his reproductive organs had been removed, hence the title.
“Bet you don’t have one of these,” Eugene said as he
“It’s not like it’s a secret, darling.”
“I didn’t—” Quinn sighed. “Never mind. How did Lewis sound? Was he very upset?” She opened the washer and started dropping in clothes.
“I’ve never heard him like that. He could barely speak.”
“He was crying?”
“Heavens, yes.”
Quinn measured the liquid detergent and poured it around the agitator onto the dirty clothes. “What did he say?”
“Not too much. Just told me how scared he was.”
She closed the washer door and turned it on, confused and surprised by what her mother-in-law had told her. Lewis had been unable to talk to her, and yet opened up to his mother to the point where he cried and told her he was scared? She glanced over at the built-in ironing board, her heart racing.
“Quinn? Are you still there?”
“I’m here, Arlene. Sorry.” She swallowed hard and walked up the stairs. “What were you saying?”
“I just want you to know I’m here if you need to talk.”
After getting off the phone, Quinn tried to convince herself it really wasn’t any big deal that Lewis had opened up to his mother and not to her. Perhaps he just didn’t want to alarm Quinn with his own worry. That made sense, didn’t it? Lewis was always trying to protect her. But later, when his sister called to say she had been talking to Lewis all morning about how upset he was, Quinn couldn’t take it anymore. She told her sister-in-law she had to go and dialed her husband’s office.
“What’s the matter?” he said.
“I don’t understand why you can talk to everyone but me,” Quinn said.
“Was I supposed to keep all this a secret? I thought my family had a right to know.”
“I just don’t want you to close me out.”
Lewis promised he wasn’t closing her out, but said he needed to hurry off the phone for an important appointment. Quinn hesitated before saying good-bye. Something about his tone tripped her suspicions. He was either hiding something or telling an outright lie. But he insisted he was rushed, so she let him go without pressing it.
“OH, HONEY,” Georgette said as she threw her arms around Quinn. “I’m so sorry you didn’t get better news from the doctors yesterday.” She had, of course, dropped by unannounced.
“So you know,” Quinn said.
“I spoke to Lewis earlier.”
“Of course you did. C’mon in and tell me what he said. Apparently it’s the only way I’m going to find out what my husband is thinking.”
The two went into the kitchen, where Georgette helped herself by making a cup of tea using a mug that Quinn didn’t usually offer her guests. It had been a present from Eugene, who gave it to her the day they met at Baston’s Books.
It was a vivid memory for Quinn. Eugene had arrived at the store with his publicist, who approached Quinn to discuss the logistics of the event while Eugene was waylaid by fans. The crowd surrounding him was comprised of mostly women, which she understood. Though he was a far cry from handsome, he had a certain curmudgeonly charisma. Eugene had made a career of his crankiness, and each woman liked to think she was special enough to be the one who could break through and become the one shining beacon in his dark existence . . . if only he would get to know her. Being aware of this didn’t make Quinn any less susceptible to his churlish charms. In fact, she had to fight the urge to push her way through the crowd and make her own specialness known.
But she had her chance after the event, when they had a few quiet moments to chat. He pulled out the coffee mug, which was a promotional item imprinted with the cover of his memoir, Eugenics . It showed a photograph of Eugene looking down at his crotch, surprised. It was a joke photo—the top half was Eugene’s body, and the bottom half was the lower region of a Ken doll. The idea was that his reproductive organs had been removed, hence the title.
“Bet you don’t have one of these,” Eugene said as he
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